


Fast Forward

by Jade4813



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: 13 Going on 30 AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade4813/pseuds/Jade4813
Summary: When teenage Zoey is humiliated at a party, she makes a wish that has consequences she couldn't possibly predict. Suddenly finding herself an adult, she discovers that not all wishes should come true...and sometimes happiness is right in front of you, where you least expect to find it.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 22
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

“Mo, I think this is a really good time to remind you that you _hate_ math.”

Zoey caught this semi-indignant reminder as she approached their lunchroom table, and she turned her attention to her two best friends just in time to hear Mo’s halfhearted reply. “It isn’t my favorite subject, but—”

Max was having none of it. “I’m not saying it’s not your favorite subject. I’m saying you once said you wanted to invent time travel so you could travel back into the past and punch Isaac Newton in the face for inventing calculus. You don’t have a slight aversion to math. You _hate_ math.”

“You know, people credit Isaac Newton with inventing calculus, but a German mathematician named Gottfried Leibniz actually independently invented it at the same time. In fact, he was the one who named it calcu—”

Though Max looked interested by Zoey’s addition of random trivia into their conversation, Mo scowled and shook his head. “I’m not looking for a history lesson, ZOLO. I’m looking for a way to get closer to the new kid, Eddie.”

At Zoey’s responding look of confusion, Max clarified, “It turns out Eddie needs a math tutor to get caught up in class, and Mo volunteered for the job.”

“But…Mo, you _hate_ math!” she protested, parroting Max’s argument from earlier.

Mo seemed unperturbed by the protest now coming at him in stereo. “Yeah, I know. It’s my least favorite subject. But Eddie may be my new _favorite_ subject, and that is what we’re going to focus on right now.” The whole time they’d talked, his eyes had been scanning the crowd, and Zoey knew the moment the boy in question walked in because Mo’s entire face lit up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time I get to know my favorite subject a little better.”

“Okay, but try not to make out the _whole_ time. Eddie actually does have to get caught—” Max began to try to warn their friend, but his warning fell on deaf ears as Mo disappeared into the lunch crowd. As his voice trailed off, Max collapsed back into his chair and threw Zoey a sardonic look. “Is there _any_ chance they get any actual studying done, or is this a lost cause?”

Grinning, Zoey took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich – a far sight better than the greased cardboard that was Max’s slice of lunchroom pizza – and shrugged. “You should have more faith in Mo,” she chided him. “They might get…five minutes of studying done.”

“Oh, well, then we’re saved,” he deadpanned.

She was about to continue their teasing conversation, but at that moment, she saw Simon Haynes stroll into the cafeteria. As she always did, she caught her breath at the sight of him. In a room full of awkward, hormonal teenagers, she could always pick him out of the crowd. She was always struck by the smooth grace and quiet confidence with which he moved. He didn’t quite walk into the room like he owned the place – he wasn’t arrogant enough for that. It was more that he carried himself with a subtle self-possession that most of her classmates lacked. Like he knew who he was, when everyone else was still trying to figure themselves out.

He drew her to him like a moth to a flame. Too bad he didn’t even know she was alive.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Max throw his lunch a fulsome glare, dropping his pizza back onto the tray and pushing it aside. “So, I take it Simon just walked in,” he remarked, scowling dispiritedly at the puddle of grease congealing on his plate.

But Zoey barely registered the words. She watched Simon as he grabbed his lunch and took it to his usual table, sliding into a seat next to Jessica Hamilton, his girlfriend of five months, two weeks, and three days (but who was counting?). When she saw him lean over and press a kiss against the other girl's mouth, Zoey stifled a forlorn sigh and pulled her attention away. Her appetite had vanished, however, so she tossed her sandwich onto Max’s discarded tray and propped her chin on her fist. “What does he see in her, anyway?” she asked morosely.

Max didn’t even have to ask her who she was talking about. “Jessica? I don’t know. She’s beautiful. Smart. Charming. Funny. And she actually talks to him, so that probably helps the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing.”

In response to this reminder, Zoey glowered at her best friend, silently rebuking him for his minor betrayal. That Jessica was all those amazing things and more didn’t help, but she still felt compelled to defend herself. “I talked to him! Once! I said hi.”

“You made a noise. I think it was more like a high pitched, _‘iiiiiiiiiiii.’_ It’s not the same thing.”

He was right, which made it worse. “Aren’t you supposed to be my best friend? Best friends make each other feel better. They aren’t supposed to relieve the Greatest Hits of their most embarrassing moments.”

Picking up her discarded sandwich, he took a bite and chewed slowly as he considered her argument. “I don’t know. I think they do both.”

Throwing him her most innocent smile, she asked, “So you don’t mind if I remind you of the time you—”

“But you’re probably right. We should talk about something else,” Max interjected quickly, cutting her off. “You’re still coming to my birthday party tomorrow, right?”

She nodded. “Of course! I wouldn’t miss it!” His grin slipped just a fraction when she tried to interject some nonchalance into her tone to ask, “But out of curiosity, um, who else is gonna be there?”

He scowled at her. “You mean is Simon coming? I don’t know. I invited him, but I don’t know if he’ll actually show. Mo said he’s coming, though he has a family thing so he’ll be a little late. And I’m sure he’ll invite Eddie to come along, so we’ll finally get a chance to know him.”

Zoey stifled a wistful sigh. “Not that I’m condoning volunteering to tutor someone in a subject you hate just to get close to them, but I have to admit, I’m a little jealous of Mo. At least he goes after what he wants, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get it. Sometimes I wish I was a little more like that.”

“Yeah,” Max mumbled as the warning bell blared overhead. “Sometimes I wish I was more like that, too.”

* * *

Zoey practically skipped with excitement on her way up to Max’s front door. She clutched Max’s birthday present in one arm, trying to be careful not to crush the bow as she travelled the half block between their houses. They’d lived three doors down from each other for most of their lives and had been best friends since the age of eight, so it wasn’t the thought of seeing Max that compelled her to change clothes four times before heading over. She’d checked and rechecked her reflection a half dozen times in the hopes that Simon would attend the party. Maybe today would be the day she’d find a way to talk to him and he’d immediately, miraculously, fall as hard for her as she’d fallen for him. Of course, she knew he was dating Jessica, but it didn’t stop her from dreaming.

They’d been friends for so long, they had long ago become practically family, so Zoey didn’t even knock when she hit the Richmans’ front door. Instead, she let herself in as she always did, heading straight to the basement, where she knew the party would be. She was a little early, and as she hit the bottom step, she watched as Max leaned over something, his attention completely absorbed in his task. “Hey, Max! Whatcha workin’ on?”

He yelped at the sound of her voice, thrusting his arms out as he spun around, as though to try to block his project from her view. Not that it worked; he wasn’t nearly big enough to hide the whole thing. As she approached, she saw that it looked like a miniature model of a room, like a one-story dollhouse, with the roof sheared off. There were a few pieces of what looked like handmade miniature furniture set up within the model, with several more waiting at the side.

What interested her the most was the tiny wheeled robot in the middle of one of the rooms, which Max had apparently been working on when she’d arrived. He’d dropped the controller when he heard her voice, and she started to reach for it, but he grabbed her hand before she could. “No, don’t,” he blurted. When she looked up at him, she was surprised to see he was blushing, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You weren’t – you weren’t supposed to see this. it’s not done yet.”

“But what is it?” she asked, gently pulling her hand free so she could bend down at take a closer look at his model.

“It’s your birthday gift. Well, it was going to be your birthday gift. She shot him a quick look, and he shrugged. “Your mom mentioned she loved dollhouses when she was your age, so I thought…well…I thought I’d make you your dream lab instead. And then I thought, why not add a little remote-controlled Zoey robot? But it’s not done yet. I still haven’t worked out some of the kinks.”

“Max, that’s _amazing_!” she breathed, her tone filled with awe. She couldn’t imagine the amount of time and work he’d put into the project, and she was touched that he’d gone through the trouble for her. “I love it!” Then, noticing a small packet laying with the model furniture he had yet to place, she picked it up. “What’s this?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “That? Oh, that’s not…I hadn’t decided whether I would add that to the gift, actually. My mom picked it up somewhere. Said it’s fairy dust or something; it’s supposed to make your wishes come true.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked, though her excitement faded to mild disappointment when she tore open the packet to find what looked like simple glitter inside. Still, she poured a little into her palm and turned towards Max. “You know what I think? I think we should use this on you instead. It’s your birthday, after all! Don’t you want your wishes to come true?”

His eyes were soft and warm when he reached out and gently captured her wrist before she could blow the so-called “fairy dust” all over him. In a low voice that sent a strange shiver down her spine, he responded, “Who’s to say they haven’t?”

“Ah,” Zoey replied, thrown by the sudden, inexplicable desire to bridge the distance between them so she could curl up against his chest. Scrambling to regain her equilibrium, she stepped back, gently pulling her arm out of his grasp. “Well, um, I guess if you put it like that…” She looked around, at a loss for what to do to break the weird tension that had sprung up between them. Finally, her mind latched on to the fact that she could hardly walk around with glitter in her hand all night, but she also didn’t think she could get it back into the packet without making even more of a mess.

“You know what? Maybe we’ll use it on Robot Zoey, instead. She seems like she has a wish or two that could stand to come true,” she offered, holding her hand over his model. When he didn’t protest, she tipped it over, letting the “fairy dust” fall gently from her hand to dust the model lab with its tiny robot, like snow falling from the sky.

“Zoey? There’s something I – um – well, I think you should…I-I’ve been meaning to…” he stammered, but before he could get to the point, they heard noise above and realized some more guests had arrived. “Ah…you know what? Maybe I should put this in the closet. I don’t want it to get broken or anything,” he mumbled, lifting the model easily into his arms and returning it to what seemed to be its place inside the storage closet nearby. Zoey lifted her hand to her mouth to gently blow the remnants of the “fairy dust” from her palm, while heavy footsteps came clattering down the stairs and whatever strange moment had formed between them was lost.

* * *

“So, what do you guys want to do next?” Max asked a while later. “I could put on some music if people want to dance—oh, hold on. My mom’s calling me. I’ll be right back.”

He darted upstairs, and Zoey took the opportunity to scoot a little closer to Simon. She’d been overjoyed when he’d actually shown up to Max’s party, even moreso when she realized Jessica wasn’t with him. He looked slightly upset, and she wondered if the two had been in a fight. Could they have broken up? She’d ask, but she hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to say anything to him. Still, over the past hour, she’d moved at least three feet closer to him, which she considered a win.

She realized she should have been paying a bit more attention to the conversation, however, when Courtney – one of their classmates, and one of Jessica’s best friends – offered, “I know! What about Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

“Seven Minutes in what?” Zoey asked, since Courtney was standing right next to her and it seemed rude to ignore the suggestion completely.

“You’ve never played it before?” the other girl asked, sounding scandalized. “Well, then, you have to go first!” Zoey caught the way Courtney’s gaze traveled from her to Simon, as though she’d read Zoey’s mind, and didn’t know whether to be encouraged or alarmed. But before she could balk, the taller girl had wrapped her arm around Zoey’s waist and was gently but firmly guiding her to the closet. Meanwhile, her friend Amber pulled off the silk scarf wrapped around her neck – an accessory she was almost never seen without – and tied it around Zoey’s eyes.

“Here are the rules,” Courtney explained, speaking over Zoey’s weak attempt to protest. “You go into the closet. Someone will come in after you count to ten, and you can do _anything_ you want with them for seven minutes.” Lowering her voice, she said, “And, you know, with the way Simon’s been looking at you for the past hour, I think I know _exactly_ who wants to join you in here.”

It sounded like a dream come true. A voice in the back of her mind cautioned it could possibly be her worst nightmare, but she ignored it. Simon had been looking at her in _some way_? She hadn’t noticed him looking at her at all!

Her heart was racing in excitement as she stumbled into the closet and heard the door shut behind her. Holding her hands out, she blindly stumbled forward until her palms hit the shelves at the back of the closet, and then she turned and held her breath as she mentally began to count to ten.

_1…2…3…_ She didn’t hear anything outside the door now. Was Simon going to be blindfolded too?

_4…5…6…_ What was she going to do when he joined her? Would she kiss him? Would _he_ kiss _her?_ It was hard to believe that a few minutes before, she was still trying to work up the nerve to say hello to him. Now there was a chance her massive crush would give her her first kiss. It seemed like a big step, but just yesterday, she’d been wishing she was a little more willing to go after what she wanted. If Seven Minutes in Heaven was what got Simon to really notice her, it was worth it.

_7…8…_

“Zoey? What are you doing in the closet?”

“Max?” she gasped, ripping off her blindfold. “Where’s Simon?”

“Simon? He just left with Courtney and –”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, as Zoey pushed past him to look around at the crowd. As he’d indicated, Simon, Courtney, and Amber were gone. None of the remaining party guests would meet her eyes, though she saw more than one pitying look shot her way. Confused, brokenhearted, and more than a little embarrassed, she whirled on Max. “What did you do?” she demanded.

“Me?” he asked, sounding shocked and hurt. “Nothing! I was upstairs! I don’t know what—”

She knew she was being unfair, but she didn’t care. For a moment, she’d been convinced she was about to have everything she’d ever wanted. Now it was gone, and all she was left with was humiliation and disappointment. “You ruined it!” she blurted. “You ruined _everything!_ ” Heedless of his protests – and wanting to hide from the rest of the world – she raced back into the closet and slammed the door behind her.

She heard Max knock and call softly through the door, “Zoey? Are you okay? Can we talk about this?”

But she ignored him, stumbling back against the shelves and sinking to the ground. In an attempt to stifle her cries, she curled her legs in front of her and pillowed her face on her arms, rocking back and forth gently. She wished she could be the kind of girl a guy like Simon would chase after. She wished she was the kind of girl who went after what she wanted, and didn’t let anyone or anything get in the way.

She wished…

* * *

A loud, blaring, beeping sound to her left jolted her upright, and she slapped at it instinctively until it lapsed into silence. Wait a minute…she jolted upright? She didn’t remember laying down. And, now that the immediate alarm had passed, she realized she was lying in bed, but she didn’t recognize the room she was in. Was it one of the Richmans’ guest rooms? It didn’t look like any she remembered, but sometimes Max’s mom got into the mood to redecorate, so perhaps the room had fallen victim to such an impulse.

It still didn’t explain how she’d gotten into the guest room in the first place. Had she exhausted herself in her sorrow and abject humiliation, and Max’s dad had carried her upstairs? She should probably apologize to the Richmans for putting them out. And to Max, for the scene she'd caused at his birthday party.

At the reminder of the previous day’s events, Zoey climbed out of bed, her entire body going numb as she stumbled to the bathroom she saw through the door on her right. She didn’t remember any of the Richmans’ guest rooms having an adjoining bathroom, but she usually stayed in the room across the hall from Max’s bedroom, so she supposed she could have missed some of the finer details of the other guest rooms.

Her brain felt fuzzy as she stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water, looking around for the little basket of spare toiletries Max’s parents always kept on hand for any emergencies their guests might encounter. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, however, she let out a piercing shriek.

The woman in the reflection mirrored Zoey’s movements, her mouth forming an O of surprise and alarm. When Zoey clapped a hand over her mouth, the woman in the reflection did the same. But it couldn’t be a reflection of her. It _couldn’t_. Because while Zoey was a teenager, the woman in the reflection looked at least ten years older.

Where was she? And, more importantly, _what had happened to her?_


	2. Chapter 2

“Zoey? What happened? Is everything okay?” A voice from the doorway made her shriek again, and she grabbed the first item her hand landed upon.- which turned out to be a toothbrush – and wielded it like a sword as she spun to face the intruder. “I-I-S-Simon?” she stammered as her brain processed the image in front of her. He looked different than she remembered. His body had lost the last, awkward vestiges of youth, but his beautiful eyes were the same. It was his eyes that she’d first noticed about him; she’d recognize them anywhere.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, his voice lightly teasing, and she gave her head a ferocious shake.

Yes. Herself, and not this stranger in a mirror. But she could hardly say that, so she stammered, “N-no! Of course not!” His brow crinkled, as though he was trying to make sense of her reaction, and she ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her flush. “I think I was still half-asleep, and I, um, I saw a spider."

It was a ridiculous excuse; she’d never been terribly afraid of spiders. Simon didn’t seem to realize this about her, however, because his expression cleared and he threw her an indulgent smile. “Oh. You want me to take care of it for you?”

“No, that’s okay,” she said, a little too quickly, only belatedly realizing she should lower her weapon since it didn’t look like she would be forcefully brushing anyone’s teeth in self-defense any time soon. “It ran down the drain.”

He nodded. “All right, well…I'm late for work. See you later?”

Zoey felt herself nod, wondering at what point she stopped having control over her body’s reactions. Probably about the same time she found herself in a body that wasn’t the one she recognized, she supposed. But she heard his footsteps retreat, followed by the opening and shutting of a door, and sagged against the bathroom sink with a sigh. There were too many questions racing through her mind, and she didn’t know where to start.

What had happened to her? Why did she look so _old_? Why did Simon? He was in her apartment first thing in the morning, so were they together? _Together_ , together? Did that mean they’d kissed? _French kissed?_ Had they held hands? _Had they done more than hold hands?_ Was she even a good kisser?

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, pressing an experimental kiss against her skin, but it didn’t help. Without anything to compare it to, she didn’t know if it was a good kiss or not. At any rate, she couldn’t afford to let herself get distracted. She had to figure out what was going on.

Zoey followed the path Simon had taken towards the rest of the…apartment? House? She didn’t even know. As she stepped into a large living room decorated with modern furniture, she saw a phone lying on a table near the door. With a small shout of relief, she scooped it up, but she frowned when she got a look at the screen. It looked like the new iPhones that had just hit the market, but there was no button at the bottom to access the home screen. Instead, a moment later, the words, “Swipe up to open” popped up, and she whispered a tiny prayer of thanks when she did so and it seemed to do the trick.

Tapping the phone icon, she bit her lip as she debated who to call. Part of her really wanted to call home; she didn’t think she’d ever needed her mom and dad more than she did at that moment. But she remembered how freaked out the mom had been in _Big_ , when Josh had awoken in Tom Hanks's body. She didn’t want to risk doing that to her parents. But she needed to talk to _someone_! Someone she could trust. Who would try to understand. Someone who was always there for her.

Max. Was there really any other choice? She dialed his home phone – Max’s parents had to be some of the last people on the planet to bother with a landline. After a few rings, someone picked up, and Zoey’s heart began to pound when she recognized his mother’s voice on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

“H-hello,” she managed, her voice small and uncertain. “Is Max there?”

“Max? He hasn’t lived here in years. Do you—”

The words caused her to panic, and she disconnected the call and tossed the phone back on the table before it occurred to her that she could have asked for his current number. Before she could decide whether to call back, there was a loud knock on the door that made her swallow another scream of surprise. Her third for the morning; it had to be a personal record.

Dropping to her knees on the far side of the couch, she clutched the plush fabric and stared at the front door with eyes so wide, one would think a bear was about to burst through. She didn’t know who it could be, but things were entirely too weird for her to deal with anyone new right now. Much to her chagrin, however, her attempts to ignore the visitor didn’t make them go away. Instead, the knocks became louder and even more insistent.

She was going to have to send them away herself, but she trembled as she rose to her feet and made her way to the door. Her hands fumbled with the lock for a moment, and then she pulled open the door just a crack. A man she didn’t recognize stood on the other side, and he sighed in relief the moment he caught sight of her. “Finally. Rough night?”

He moved to enter her apartment, but she leaned against the door, determined to keep him out. She wasn’t supposed to let strangers in when her parents weren’t home. “Um…I’m not supposed to let strangers in—” she began weakly.

He just rolled his eyes, and she had to scamper backwards quickly to retain distance between them when he pushed his way inside. “Very funny, Zoey.” She’d been alarmed about his possible intentions when he breached her inner sanctum, but he just looked bored. As she gawped at him, he pulled out his phone and started to tap away at the screen, seemingly ignoring her completely. However, when he realized she was still standing there, he shot her a quick glance. “You know, if we don’t get moving, you’re going to be late for work.” Work? She had work? Oblivious to her surprise, he continued, “Unless…you’re not planning to go in looking like that, are you?”

He sounded appalled by the idea – as well he should, since she was still dressed in a skimpy nightdress that barely reached her thighs. Whatever happened to her well-loved NASA shirts and cotton pants? “No! Um…hold on a minute.” He directed his attention back to his phone, and she ran back to the bedroom to dig around in the closet. The clothes inside looked – and felt – expensive, but they were completely the wrong style. She always preferred wearing pants, button-up blouses, and comfortable sweaters, but there wasn’t a sweater to be seen.

At a loss, she dug around in some nearby drawers until she found a bra and some underwear and then changed quickly, grabbing the most modest dress she could find in a rush and slipping it on. When it came time for shoes, she was appalled to see row after row of high heels on the shelves. What had happened to the comfortable flats that were a staple of her wardrobe?

It was a mystery she would have to crack later. As reluctant as she was to go anywhere with a stranger, he seemed intent upon taking her to work. Wherever that was, and whatever this version of her supposedly did for a living, she could only hope it led to answers that her empty apartment had failed to provide.

Zoey winced as she slid on a pair of high heels. Almost as an afterthought, she scampered to the bathroom to brush her teeth and run a comb through her hair, and then she returned to the living room. Her companion barely shot her a glance as he grabbed her purse and phone off the nearby table, passing them over as he grabbed the door.

It was the most surreal morning of her life, but it just seemed like a regular Tuesday to him, as he started to rattle off what seemed to be appointments on her calendar as they made their way to the nearby elevators. “—We’re running a little late, so you won’t have time for anything before the pitch meeting for that new project Leif’s been working on.” He shot her a quick look that wasn’t quite irritation and wasn’t quite disdain, and that probably conveyed a lot to someone who knew the pertinent subtext. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t.

“Leaf? Oh. That’s today?” She didn’t know who this person named after a part of a tree was – or why the stranger walking with her seemed to think it warranted _whatever_ he’d try to convey with his facial expression. But she had too much to deal with at the moment, and she was wondering how many red flags it would send up if she asked her companion to clear her schedule for the day.

He didn’t seem to register her question, as he carried on, “You have lunch with Simon, unless you want me to cancel it. Again. And then a phone call with—”

Cancel lunch with Simon? Was he _joking_? “What? No! I want to have lunch with Simon! I always want to have lunch with Simon!” she blurted.

He led her to a car waiting at the curb and ran around to slide into the back seat beside her while the driver held her door. “Since when?” he asked with a snort of disbelief as he settled in next to her. “But if you do have lunch with him, you might want to mention that interview coming up with Susan Gardner. We’ve rescheduled it twice; we can’t do it again.”

He continued to rattle off her appointments, but she tuned him out. None of the names meant anything to her anyway, so she stared out the window at the city instead. A short while later, the car pulled up in front of a tall building with SPRQ Point emblazoned in large letters on the side, and she stepped cautiously out onto the curb.

Her companion – she really would need to figure out his name at some point – escorted her to a nearby elevator bay, scanning a black card in his hand before hitting the button for the sixth floor. “—And you’re having drinks at The Wine Bar with Monica and Courtney tonight at seven.” Her litany of appointments apparently at an end, he turned to look at her, an expectant expression on his face. The problem is, she had no idea what he was waiting for.

“That all sounds,” _horrifying and exhausting_ , “great. But I’ve actually got a, um, a personal thing I need to take care of today. Would it be possible to clear my schedule?” He stared at her, agog, and she rushed to clarify, “Don’t cancel lunch with Simon. But I need you to reschedule everything else.”

For the first time, her companion seemed flustered. “I – um – I can clear your afternoon, but we can’t move this thing with Leif. Not if you’re going to have everything you need for your meeting with Danny Michael Davis next week.”

“Right. Okay. Well…can you see what you can do about the rest of the day? I’d appreciate it.”

At those last words, he looked confused, but he didn’t say anything as he led her off the elevator into a large, cold, impersonal room filled with desks and computers. People were typing away furiously, but they all avoided her eyes as she walked past. She was thankful her companion didn’t notice that she was always a half step behind him, needing him to lead her to wherever it was she was supposed to go.

He led her to a large office with glass walls and said, “I’ll grab your coffee if you want to head into the conference room—”

“Coffee? Yuck,” she interjected automatically, wrinkling her nose with distaste. She couldn’t stand the stuff.

His expression couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “When did you stop drinking coffee? You tell me all the time it’s the only thing that helps you get through your day.” While she fumbled for an answer, he shook his head. “This isn’t one of Courtney's fad diets, is it?”

“Yes!” she blurted, clutching gratefully to his excuse. “I thought I’d try it out for a while. Anyway, you said we were running late. Let’s just head straight in. To the meeting, I mean.”

He unknowingly led the way, and Zoey pasted on a tight smile as she followed him to the conference room. Several strangers were sitting around the table, chatting cheerfully amongst themselves, but they all fell silent when she entered. Even she, in her ignorance, could sense the tension in the atmosphere as she lowered herself into her seat and looked around at the sea of strange faces. They seemed to be waiting for something from her, so she tried to feign confidence as she ventured, “Should we get started?”

Everyone turned to look at one of the other people in the room, and she took the opportunity to kick her shoes off under the table. This new person – Leaf, presumably – rose to his feet. He was tall and gangly, with sandy blonde hair and a slightly arrogant smirk. But his voice was warm and engaging when he started to speak, pulling up various charts and graphs as he rambled on about some project that meant absolutely nothing to Zoey. Since she couldn’t make sense of his words, she surreptitiously watched the faces of the other people around the table as he spoke. They seemed interested, even impressed by his presentation. It was good enough for her, so when the presentation came to an end and everyone turned to her for her verdict, she threw Leif a bright smile.

“That looks great,” she said, hoping that it actually did and she wasn’t making it patently obvious she had no idea what she was talking about. On the assumption a little caution wouldn’t hurt, she added, “I’d like to take a closer look at those numbers, if you don’t mind, but I think you’ve really done some..." she didn't know what to say, so she decided rather helplessly to repeat herself, " _great_ work here."

Apparently her repetition was weird, because even Tree-Man looked astonished by her words. Pleased, but astonished. The man who’d walked in with her – who she assumed to be her secretary or assistant or something – looked downright stunned. Just when she thought she’d said exactly the wrong thing and they were somehow going to figure out she was a teenager in an adult’s body, Leif smiled at her and said with apparent sincerity, “Thank you. So, should I tell my team to move forward?”

She nodded, sightlessly feeling for her shoes under the table so she could slip them back on and make her escape. “Yes, that sounds gr—“ Catching herself at the last second, she amended her comment. “Good. That sounds good. Why don’t we schedule an update meeting next week? We can go over any questions I have about the numbers then.”

Zoey didn’t even wait for him to agree, jumping to her feet and heading to the door. She didn’t mean to be rude, but she really needed to avoid any further questions – particularly any that would involve technical knowledge she didn’t have. She’d had some basic coding lessons in school – and she’d managed to pick up a few things on her own – so she recognized that was apparently what she did for a living. But her knowledge was still pretty rudimentary, and it wouldn’t take much for others to figure that out if she wasn’t careful.

“What was that?” her companion asked in an undertone as he followed her back to her office and slipped in behind her. “I thought you were planning to _destroy_ him!”

“I was?” She was? He apparently worked for her, so why would she do such a thing? “But his project looked good! Why would I—”

“Because he’s after your job?” her companion cut in with a huff. “Honestly, what is _up_ with you? You’ve been weird all day!”

She couldn’t possibly answer that question, so she didn’t dare try. “Don’t worry about me; I’m fine. But could I ask you to do me one more favor? It’s important. I need you to find a phone number for me. And an address.”

He threw her a dubious look in response to her reassurance that she was, in fact, not a teenager masquerading as an adult, but he nodded and started typing away at his phone. “Of course. Who do you need me to find?”

“His name is Max Richman. Maxwell. He used to live on—”

Her assistant narrowed his eyes at her over the edge of his phone. “You’re kidding, right? Max Richman? You’re really going to give him a call? You know that’s a _terrible_ idea, right?”

Confused by his reaction, she took a step back and said, “Yes. He’s an old friend. Why is it a bad idea?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Zoey. Maybe because he hates you?”


	3. Chapter 3

He _hated_ her? Surely hate was a hard word. She didn’t know how she’d found herself in this weird dream or reality or time, but this man – this secretary or assistant of hers – had to be wrong. She couldn’t imagine a world in which Max and she weren’t best friends. Let alone a world in which he hated her. The very idea sent her reeling, and she didn’t know how to respond. “Um, well, I’m sure that’s…not…that’s a bit extreme,” she mumbled, ducking her head to hide her face. He already thought she was acting weird; she didn’t need to do anything to make it worse. “Can you get me his address and phone number anyway? Oh, and Mo! I need you to track down Mo. He was a friend of mine in school.” If something had happened between herself and Max, maybe Mo could fill her in and help her figure out how to make it right.

She was momentarily concerned that he would hit her with the revelation that Mo hated her, too, but he didn’t give any indication that he recognized the name. In its own way, that itself was somewhat depressing, though not necessarily damning. Lots of people drifted apart after graduation; it wasn’t impossible that she and Mo had done the same. She’d just never imagined that they would. She’d always figured she, Max, and Mo would be friends for life.

Pushing that particular train of thought aside, she took a moment to fill her assistant in on the information she had about her former school friend. As he turned to take care of his task, however, he shot a quick remark over his shoulder, “Oh, I’m still working on scheduling your afternoon meetings, but I’ve flagged some things in your e-mail that you _have_ to take care of today.”

Zoey stifled a groan as she turned back towards her desk, hoping she’d be able to make sense of the e-mails in question. The first two weren’t too bad, but the third took her almost an hour to sort out. She had to dig through her old e-mails to read through all the messages in the thread before she could even make sense of what was going on, let alone respond.

When that task was done, she found she couldn’t bear the prospect of facing the rest of her outstanding e-mails, so she sat back in her chair and grabbed her phone instead. She still didn’t know what she would tell her parents, but surely she had David’s current phone number saved. She might not be able to tell him what was going on – let alone ask him for advice – but it would be comforting to hear his voice, at least.

It was a testament to the strangeness of the day that she was actually relieved to find that she indeed had her brother’s phone number saved. Before she could second-guess the wisdom of her plan, particularly since she had no idea what she’d say to him, she hit the button to give him a call and held her breath as she pressed the phone to her ear.

After two rings, he picked up, and her eyes stung with unshed tears when she heard his voice, which was somehow so comforting familiar and so alien to her at the same time. It was David, there was no question about that, but his voice was deeper and richer than it had been as a teen. He sounded all grown up – an almost absurd realization, under the circumstances, but a realization all the same.

He also didn’t sound entirely pleased to hear from her, given the tension she detected in his monosyllabic, “Yes?” greeting. It wasn't an encouraging sign.

“David? It’s me. Zoey.”

“I know. What do you need?” he asked in a curt tone.

The coldness of his response made it hard for her to work up the nerve to continue the conversation, but she had to try. “Do I have to need something?” she asked in a small voice.

Over the line, she could hear his heavy sigh. “You wouldn’t think so, but since that’s the only time you ever call, I guess you do.”

“I don’t need anything,” she said. “I just…you’re my big brother, and I missed you. I just wanted to call to see how you were doing.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You _miss_ me? You really are a piece of work, you know that?” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “No, you know what? You weren’t there when we needed you. When _any_ of us needed you. Do you know how many times I had to comfort Mom and Dad because you couldn’t even be bothered to return their calls?”

“I-I don’t – I’ve just been busy, that’s all,” she scrambled to explain. She didn’t really understand what was going on – or why she’d ever fail to return her parents’ calls – but after hearing the schedule she’d originally had set for the day, she assumed the excuse to be true.

“I’m a public defender, and even I’m not so busy I couldn’t answer when Howie called me that night. But let me guess; you were too busy vacationing in St. Barts, right?”

“I…wh-who’s Howie? What night?” she stammered.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because David’s answering silence was almost deafening. “Unbelievable,” he finally muttered, and the line went dead as he hung up on her.

She was still staring at her phone in shock and confusion when she heard a soft knock and looked up to find Simon, leaning against her doorjamb. “Ready for lunch?” he asked. Then he seemed to take in the expression on her face, because he straightened. “Is something wrong?”

Zoey shook her head. If her relationship with David was as bad as it seemed, Simon had to know the reason why. The problem was, she couldn’t figure out how to ask without letting on that she didn’t. “N-no,” she lied. “It’s just…um…a work…thing.”

He shook his head, but his face was resigned as he replied, “Let me guess, you have to cancel lunch.”

That he took it as a foregone conclusion was all the evidence she needed to know that it wouldn’t be the first time she cancelled on him at the last minute. What kind of person _was_ she, anyway? Being with Simon was all she’d ever wanted. How could she have let herself take that for granted?

Well, she wouldn’t anymore. She didn’t know what mistakes she’d made in her lost years, but she wasn’t going to make them anymore. Shaking her head, she jumped to her feet, almost teetering when her weight shifted on her stiletto heels. She’d worn heels before, of course, but they weren’t usually _this_ high.

“No, just the opposite,” she reassured him, catching herself on the edge of her desk before she could topple to the ground. “Let’s get out of here.” She focused on putting one foot in front of the other until she was sure she’d regained her balance, and grabbed his arm once she reached his side.

Clutching his arm – in part from gratitude that her greatest wish had come true, and in part from necessity, so he should catch her if she fell – they made their way towards the elevator. Though he shot her a quick look of surprise, he didn’t pull away. “I don’t actually have a lot of time today. Do you mind if we run down to the food court?”

Was he kidding? She finally had a chance to be in a boyfriend/girlfriend situation with him, and he thought she’d be picky about where they went to eat? She’d go with him to Taco Bell if that’s what would make him happy!

As they waited for the elevator, she leaned into him, inhaling deeply. In school, she’d never had a chance to be so close to him. He smelled even better than she imagined, and it was impossible not to get lost in his eyes. What would he do if she stretched up on her toes and kissed him? That was probably something they’d done before, right? They were _together_. As strange as the day had been so far, it would almost be worth it if she could have her first kiss ever, with Simon, right there. Before she woke up from this weird dream or hallucination and missed out on her chance entirely.

She could do this. How hard could it be? It was just a kiss. Just…stretch up onto her toes and press her lips against his. Totally casually, like it was something she’d done a million times before. She could do it. _She could do it._

Tugging his arm to pull his attention towards her, she stretched up on her toes and leaned in. At the last moment, however, she lost her nerve. What if she tried to kiss him and was awkward and did it wrong or something, and he realized she wasn’t the Zoey he knew? What if she was so bad at it that he realized he didn’t want to be with her anymore?

Overcome by self-doubt and nerves, Zoey ducked her head to the side, pressing the kiss against his cheek instead of his lips. When she pulled away, he threw her a befuddled expression. “What was that for?”

She shrugged. “What, I can’t kiss my boyfriend on the cheek just because I’m glad to see him?” Her boyfriend? _Her boyfriend!_ Somehow, saying it aloud like that made it feel more real. _Simon was her boyfriend!_

He seemed to accept her reasoning, because he just shook his head with a bemused smile. “Sure, I guess,” he agreed. And then he dropped the subject as they stepped onto the elevator and headed down to the food court for lunch.

Having him by her side made her forget about the disappointment and confusion of the rest of her day. This was exactly what she’d always wanted, and it was even better than she’d thought. She tried not to be too obvious as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, her heart hammering in her chest. Even as an awkward teen, Simon had been attractive. Now, as a confident adult? He was positively breathtaking.

Seemingly lost in thoughts of his own, he didn’t seem to notice her preoccupation as they got their food and found a seat. As he slid into the chair next to her, his leg brushed against hers, causing the butterflies to go ricocheting through her stomach again, making the thought of adding food to the mix seem positively impossible.

So, rather than eat, she picked up a fork and used it to push some chicken fried rice around her plate as she mentally scrambled for something to say. She wanted to know everything about him. All of his thoughts and dreams and fears. She wanted to know what made him tick. What made him happy. And, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she wanted to know more about their relationship. How they had gotten together in the first place, and whether he’d somehow fallen in love with her as deeply as she’d loved him from the day she met him.

There was a good chance that her questions would send up one or two red flags, but if she was ever going to get answers, she had to try. Before she could find the words to do so, however, he mentioned off-handedly, “Oh, I got a call from your mom today. She said it’ll be a few days before they head into port again, but she’s happy, and she wanted to let you know she’s having a good time.”

Her heart twisted in her chest. Her parents were on a cruise? She’d put off calling them because she wasn’t sure what she would say, but the knowledge that she couldn’t have reached them anyway made her feel bereft. “She called you?” Zoey asked in a small, hurt voice. At his look of surprise, she asked, “Why didn’t she call me?”

“Probably because you always have Jason screen her calls, and she knows she wouldn’t have gotten through to you anyway,” he pointed out. She heard the censure in his voice, but it was no less than she felt she deserved. Everything she’d learned about herself in the last few hours had left her feeling dispirited and depressed, and she didn’t know what to do.

Her longing to reach out to Max was stronger than ever. He was her best friend, and he’d always been there for her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. But if assistant – Jason – was correct and he hated her as much as nearly everyone else seemed to, she didn’t even have him to turn to. The thought made her want to cry, but she fought back the urge as she mumbled, “Oh, I guess…I forgot I did that. There was something I needed to ask her.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “The next time she calls, I’ll let her know you wanted to get in touch with her.”

She nodded. Unable to bear the thought that she’d alienated even her parents in this strange new reality, she ventured meekly, “Can I ask you a question?” and was bolstered by his encouraging expression. “How long have we been together?”

In retrospect, she should have realized the fact she had just stepped on a conversational land mine when he froze, his posture stiffening. “Why?”

A little off-balance by his reaction, trying to figure out if it was a sign he’d realized there was something off about her that day, she stammered a bit when she replied, “I-I was just wondering, you know, how serious we are and—”

His reaction caught her off-guard, as he dropped his food back onto his tray and leaned back with a sigh. “I knew it.” She could see the anger in his eyes, and his voice was tense when he leaned forward. “You know, when you agreed to give me time to make sure we were ready for marriage, part of me knew that you didn’t mean it. You’ve never really cared what anyone else needs if it gets in the way of what you want. I guess I just thought, since I’m your boyfriend and all, that you’d try to pretend you gave a damn for twenty-four hours at least.”

“I – no, Simon, that’s not—” she began to protest, but her efforts were weak at best. Given the long litany of people she’d angered, alienated, or in some other way lost over the course of the missing years in her life, discovering he was on that list as well wasn’t a surprise.

Rising to his feet, he snapped, “But maybe I should thank you because I just realized something I haven’t wanted to admit. I’m not ready to propose to you because deep down, I’ve known for a long time that what we have isn’t enough. And I’m tired of pretending like it is.”

Zoey felt numb, unable to move as she watched him walk away. She couldn’t even bring herself to want to cry. She’d barely gotten used to the idea of him being hers before she’d lost him. Rising shakily to her feet, she considered heading back to her office, but the thought of trying to pretend that she had any idea what she was doing for the next several hours made her want to scream. Besides, if Jason had done as she’d asked, her afternoon would be clear anyway.

So instead of turning left and heading back to the office, she turned right and made her way to the street instead. The fresh air helped her to clear her head as she pulled out her phone and fumbled with it for a few seconds until she remembered how to unlock her screen. As she’d hoped, she found an alert that she had a new text message.

Her hand shook as she pulled it up, and she almost let out a tiny sob of relief when she saw Jason had sent her Max’s address and phone number. Maybe he’d been right. Maybe Max wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe he even hated her. She didn’t know how she’d be able to bear it if she saw anger, hatred, or even disappointment in his eyes. But she had to try.

Max was her best friend, and she’d never needed him more than she did at that moment. If he would only give her a chance to prove that she wasn’t the person everyone seemingly believed her to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Standing outside of Max’s apartment building a short time later, Zoey felt a strange mixture of emotions that all but paralyzed her where she stood. As eager as she was to see Max, she was scared of what his reaction would be when she showed up on his doorstep. Jason had said that he hated her, and with everything she’d discovered about herself in the last few hours, she had no reason to doubt it. Except she just couldn’t imagine a life without him in it, and so part of her couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the idea and refused to believe it possible. It would break her heart to discover that what Jason said was true.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, she dragged herself up the stairs to the front door of his building, which required a key to enter. On the right of the door, there was a speaker panel she could use to buzz his apartment, but she wasn’t quite brave enough to do it without knowing what the reception would be. Stalling for time, she pulled out her phone, silently debating whether she should try to call him instead. But at that moment, an older woman strode past her, walking into the building. Acting on impulse, Zoey reached out to grab the door so she could follow.

As she stepped into the foyer, the older woman shot a quick look over her shoulder at her, and Zoey set her shoulders and feigned confidence as she headed to the nearby stairs, trying to pretend like she belonged there. Without a second glance, the woman turned away, seemingly assuming either from her attitude or her stature that she was not a threat. Zoey had always been small for her age – a circumstance that apparently followed her into adulthood, as she had discovered her hopes that she would one day hit a growth spurt would apparently be in vain.

Zoey took another glance at her phone to confirm Max’s apartment number as she headed up to his floor. Her heart hammered in her chest and she held her breath as she knocked sharply on his door, praying both that he would be home and that he would not be home to receive her call in equal measure. She counted silently in her head, barely making it to five until her courage failed her and she turned to leave. It was then that she heard the sound of a bolt sliding in its lock and glanced over her shoulder as his front door opened.

He was at once both a complete stranger and achingly familiar to her. Max had been a gangly teenager, but he’d grown taller and fleshed out in the intervening years. His shoulders were wide and broad, the solid muscles in his arms peeking out from beneath the sleeves he’d rolled up his forearms. His face had lost all traces of baby fat, leaving behind a strong jaw dusted with a five o’clock shadow.

Although she was struck dumb at the sight of him, he recognized her immediately. “Zoey?” he asked, his confusion apparent. “What are you doing here?”

“Max?” she breathed, her voice small and uncertain. “I-I need your help.”

He watched her in silence, and she wished she knew what he was thinking. A day before, she would have said she knew him better than anyone else in the world. But they weren’t teenagers anymore, his expression guarded, and he might as well have been a stranger to her.

She held her breath while he watched her. A slight frown tugged at his lips, but he didn’t slam the door in her face, which was encouraging at least. Finally, she saw his shoulders shift under his shirt as he sighed, opening the door wider in silent invitation for her to step inside. Swallowing a sob of relief, she lurched forward and threw her arms around his neck in a desperate hug. “I’m so glad I found you,” she whispered against his chest.

The muscles in his shoulders stiffened, and he didn’t return her embrace, though he also didn’t push her away. Feeling sheepish, she released him, ducking her head as she pushed past him into his apartment. Now that she was here, she didn’t know how to explain what had happened to her, particularly since she still didn’t understand it herself.

Linking her fingers in front of her, Zoey rocked back and forth. He was still watching her in guarded silence, and her voice was anxious as she began to explain, “I-I know I shouldn’t have just shown up here like this. You probably hate me. Everyone else seems to. But I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he merely crossed his arms over his chest.

His lack of response rattled her, and felt herself tremble as she blurted, “I know this is going to be hard to believe, but yesterday, I was at your birthday party, hiding in your closet, and then I woke up tomorrow, and I was…this.” She gestured wildly down at herself.

This finally prompted a reaction out of him, as he shook his head. “Zoey, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. You’re feeling nostalgic about the past so you wanted to come by and relive the good old days? Because I don’t really have time to go for a walk down memory lane with you, and I really don’t see the point.”

“No, that’s not – you’re my friend! You’re my _best friend_ , and I thought maybe you could help me figure out what happened—”

He snorted. “We haven’t been friends for _years_. Not since Junior High.”

Zoey’s voice started to waver, and she felt her eyes fill with tears as she gave a futile shake of her head. “N-no, I – I don’t – it’s true, isn’t it? You really do hate me?”

Although he appeared discomfited by her tears, he didn’t move any closer. Instead, he lifted one shoulder in an awkward shrug and softened his voice as he explained, “I don’t hate you. Maybe I did once, but I’ve moved on. We’ve both moved on.”

Sucking her lower lip between her teeth, she asked weakly, “We really haven’t seen each other since Junior High?”

His eyes narrowed. “Is this a joke?” Whatever he saw in her face caused the ice in his voice to thaw slightly, and he looked at her in mild alarm. “You really don’t remember anything from the last fifteen years?” When she gave her head a tiny shake in response, he finally moved closer, gently cupping her shoulders in his hand. “Have you seen a doctor?”

She shook her head again, firmer this time. “No, I-I haven’t forgotten those years. I didn’t _live_ them. It’s like I said. Yesterday, I was at your birthday party, and today I was in a strange apartment with a strange job and…and Simon hates me and…I was hoping you would help me.” Bolstered by his obvious concern, she reached for him, digging her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. For the first time since he’d answered the door, she saw the shadow of the friend she’d once known in the look on his face. “You’ll help me, right?”

“I…can’t,” he finally said, a touch of regret in his voice. “I don’t know how. Like I said, we haven’t been friends for a long time. I don’t know anything about your life, really.”

“But I don’t understand how we couldn’t be friends anymore!” Her voice was desperate, pleading. “Did I move away or something?” When he started to shake his head, she asked, “So didn’t you ever want to see me?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I saw you get out of the car once, a few years ago, when you stopped by to see your family at Christmas,” he offered weakly.

Releasing her hold on him, Zoey staggered over to the couch, where she sank down and pulled her legs up underneath her. Grabbing the pillow nearby, she dragged it into her lap and hugged it for comfort. “I don’t believe this,” she moaned, burying her face in the plush fabric. “What happened to me?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Max rock back and forth on his heels. he didn’t seem to know what to say or how to comfort her. After a moment, he mumbled something, she didn’t hear what, and disappeared into the other room. She heard him rummaging around in the next room, but she didn’t get up to investigate. She was trying too hard not to cry.

When he returned a couple minutes later, he gingerly lowered himself onto the couch next to her, keeping at last a foot’s distance between them. She felt his hand on her arm and looked over to see him holding out a glass of water for her to take. With a tiny murmur of thanks, she wrapped her hand around the cool surface and raised it to her lips, which was when she noticed the book in his lap.

At her curious expression, he held it up for her to see. “High school yearbook,” he explained. “I can’t tell you about the last few years, but I thought maybe this would help.”

With a soft cry of surprise, Zoey grabbed for the book with one hand as she used the other to put her glass on the nearby coffee table with enough force that some water sloshed over the rim. As soon as he relinquished the yearbook over to her, Max jumped to his feet and moved away.

She felt his eyes on her from across the room as she flipped through the pages of the yearbook, viewing memories she didn’t have. Always somewhat introverted, she’d expected to find one or two photos of herself, so she was shocked to see herself on several pages. In one picture, she stood in the center of the frame, her expression triumphant, as several girls flanked her on either side. Many of them were strangers to her, but she recognized Courtney and Amber.

“Wait, was I actually… _popular_?” she asked in astonishment, running one fingertip across the image. It was hard to believe. She hadn’t been ostracized in school, exactly, but nobody would have described her as “popular” either. She’d had few friends – mostly Max and Mo – and spent most of her time trying to make herself more or less invisible to the rest of the school.

“Yeah, you kinda ran the school,” Max replied, his voice subdued.

“But Courtney and Amber? They _hated_ me!”

He shrugged. “Last I heard, you were still friends with them,” he replied in a flat voice.

“I can’t believe it,” she breathed, too distracted to wonder at his tone. She’d just turned the page and saw a picture of her from Senior Prom, a crown on her head and Simon by her side. She was ever so slightly in the foreground, her back pressed against his chest, as she threw the camera a mocking grin.

“Simon and I went to prom together?” she asked in amazement. Of course, she’d wondered if they two of them had started dating back in school, but the thought was still hard to process.

“Yup,” he said in that same subdued tone.

“I was Prom Queen?”

“Yuuuup.”

“I-I can’t believe it,” she said again, flipping through the pages to find more photos of her. President of the Student Council. Voted “Most Likely to Succeed.” Head of something called the STEM Society. The list went on.

Zoey had always felt awkward and uncertain. She’d struggled to connect to other people, including her friends, at times. But the Zoey Clarke in this yearbook was beautiful, popular, and accomplished. She was everything she’d had ever wanted to be and more.

“I can’t – wow. This is…wow,” she said, feeling overwhelmed as she closed the book and tossed it back onto the coffee table. “I-I was amazing!”

“Yeah, you were pretty incredible,” Max replied in a hollow voice. Then, with a sigh, he said more firmly, “Well, I hope that helped you get a handle on things. I’m sorry I can’t help you more than that, but like I said, we haven’t been friends for a while.” She looked up to see him edging towards the door and realized that he was trying to get rid of her. “It’s getting late,” he said weakly in response to her hurt look.

“But I-I don’t know how to get home,” she said in a small voice as she rose to her feet.

She watched as Max squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath. “All right. Let me grab my keys.”

Her relief was short-lived, as he seemed lost in his own thoughts as he walked her to his car, only breaking the silence once to ask her for her address. She had to pull her ID out of her wallet to find it, since she’d been too rattled that morning to note the address on her way out the door.

Though she wracked her brain to try to find a way to breach this terrible distance that had fallen between them once more, she found herself staring mindlessly at his hands where the gripped the steering wheel. They were larger and more graceful than she remembered from the day before. “Do you still play the piano?” she asked, feeling a little stupid that it was the best she could manage, even as the words left her mouth.

He shot her a quick look out of the corner of his eye. “Sometimes,” she admitted, pulling up to the curb. “This you?”

Zoey looked up at the building and stifled a sigh when she realized it looked like the one she’d left earlier that day. “Yeah. I guess,” she agreed, but she didn’t reach for the handle. She was reluctant to leave him, scared that if she let him leave now, she’d never get him back. Turning to face him again, she threw him a hopeful look. “Walk me in?”

He winced. “Zoey,” he said, drawing out the word in mild protest.

“Please?” she pleaded softly.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, even as his shoulders sagged in defeat. “All right. Hold on.” She bit back her sigh of relief as he parked and got out, bounding onto the curb to join him as he walked around the front of the vehicle towards her door.

But as they walked inside, she realized her precious moments with him were slipping away, and she dragged her feet to prolong the inevitable goodbye. “Max, can I ask you something?” she blurted as they headed toward the elevators. At his cautious nod, she continued, “If you were me, what would you do?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, hitting the button for her floor. She stepped closer to him and felt her heart sink when he responded by shifting a little closer away. He leaned his back against the elevator wall, pretending it had been his intent all along.

She didn’t call him on it, even though she knew better, but she did press him on her question. “I mean, if you woke up in a totally different life than the one you remembered, what would you do?”

His fingers tapped a silent but impatient rhythm against the wall and he didn’t look at her, instead watching the numbers flashing on the panel beside the door as they made their inexorable climb. “Well, you saw your yearbook. And I know you got your dream job and your dream guy, so—”

“Except I seem to have screwed that up,” she interjected miserably. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Max cut in, his voice firm. When she looked at him in surprise, she saw him wince, his eyes darting towards her face and then away again. “I can’t imagine anyone who has ever loved you actually hating you,” he explained lamely.

It was exactly what she’d expect her best friend to say, and she flashed him a brilliant smile in gratitude. A few seconds later – far too soon for her liking – the elevator doors slid open and they stepped into the hall. Her apartment door was only a few feet away, but still she stalled.

Her smile fading, she pointed out miserably, “Don’t be too sure of that. David does. If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s that I’ve made a mess of…my life, basically.”

Although Max followed her off the elevator with some reluctance, he hung back. She didn’t need to know him as well as she once had to see he was eager to leave. But he’d never turned her down when she’d needed his help as a teenager, and, true to form, he didn’t do so now. Instead, sounding like the words were being ripped from his throat, he offered, “So…fix it.”

“Huh?”

A scowl flashed across his face as he crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “You got everything you ever wanted. If you really have messed it all up, then maybe that’s why you’re here. So you can fix it. Find a way to fix things with Simon. As for David…he may be mad at you, but he loves you. I’m sure if you want to find a way to patch things up with him, you can.” For the first time since leaving his apartment, he met her eyes and said, “If there’s one thing _I_ know about _you_ , it’s that you don’t let anything – or anyone – hold you back from something you want. If you really want things to be different with Simon and David, you'll find a way.”

There was a hard edge to his tone that belied the comforting nature of his words, but she didn’t understand why that would be. As he turned around to hit the button to recall the elevator, she asked, “What about with you?”

His spine curved slightly as he looked down, and she pressed her advantage. “I know! Go to dinner with me tomorrow night. Maybe it has been a long time, but that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way! We should…we should go to dinner and catch up!” Throwing him a sheepish smile, she amended her statement, “Well…you can catch me up, unless you want to reminisce about Mrs. Parker’s Algebra class.”

She’d hoped the reminder would make him laugh, but instead, he turned his head away from her with a sigh. “Zoey.”

Once again, he dragged out her name in protest, and once again, she pled with him to give her a chance. “Please? You just said if I really want to fix things, I can. I want to fix things with you!” She waited until he met her eyes, and then she whispered, “You’re my best friend, Max.” He opened his mouth to argue, so she cut him off. “I may not be to you, but you are to me. Just one night? For – for me?”

The elevator doors slid open in front of him, but he didn’t move, even as they slid closed once more. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back, and she could sense he was waging some sort of internal battle so she remained silent, afraid she might accidentally nudge him in the wrong direction.

As his head dropped, she heard him mutter, “You would think after all this time, I would have learned to say no to you.” Although his words suggested his capitulation, his tone made his displeasure clear. But Zoey mentally waved that away. He might be a little annoyed at the moment, but he’d be happy when the two of them resumed their friendship.

“All right,” he said, his voice brittle as he turned to her. “Dinner. Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. But that’s it. Whatever this is…I can’t do it again.”

She didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but she was too overcome by joy to let it dampen her mood. Grinning widely, she backed towards her door. “Yes! You won’t regret this, I promise!”

As the elevator doors slid open in front of him again and he stepped inside, she could swear she heard him mumble, “I already do.”


	5. Chapter 5

_What was he doing here?_

Max had asked himself that countless times in the last hour. As he drove to Zoey’s apartment to pick her up. On their way to the restaurant. As they waited for the hostess to locate their reservation. On their way to the table. And now at the table, while they perused the menu and prepared to order.

He’d been tempted to suggest a quick drink instead of dinner, but the thought had seemed churlish, and he’d decided against it, in the end. Besides, there was something strange about suggesting a “date” over drinks with a woman who swore she was a teenager only a few hours before.

So instead of drinks, he’d taken her out for Italian food, at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant he’d found that had an easy atmosphere and allowed for a measure of privacy, without being overly romantic.

“What can I get you to drink?” their waitress asked, her order pad at the ready.

Max gave Zoey an expectant look, and she lowered her menu to throw the waitress a blinding smile. “Yes, could I have a dry martini, please? Extra dry, extra olives.”

Max had to stifle his soft snort of laughter as he looked at his dinner companion over the edge of the menu. She spoke in the clipped tones of a teenager who was pretending to be older than their years, her voice taking on something close to a bad British accent in the process. The charade lent credence to her earlier revelation, which truly was too fantastic to be believed.

He almost asked her if she was sure that was what she wanted; if she was telling the truth, there was a good chance she’d never tasted a martini before, dry or otherwise. She ordered it like it was something she’d heard in a movie, and he knew there was at least a reasonable chance she’d regret her order at the first sip.

He ultimately decided against saying anything. He wasn’t her dad or her brother. Heck, he wasn’t even her friend. Whatever had happened to her – whether it truly was something miraculous or merely a betrayal of memory – she was an adult. What she chose to drink, or not drink, wasn’t any of his business. Or his concern.

And yet he still found himself responding to the waitress’s expectant look with a quiet, “Ginger ale, please.”

The waitress nodded and wandered away, and Zoey smiled at him across the table. “So,” she began, but she didn’t seem to know how to continue as her voice trailed off immediately. Her expression was so hopeful, so open and warm, he had to tear his eyes away and remind himself why he couldn’t let himself get pulled in again.

 _“I’ve figured out your secret, Maxwell Richman,”_ Zoey’s voice murmured in his memory. The rain falling from above had been cool, but her lips were warm against his. He pushed the image aside, along with the bitterness that came with it, and forced a tight smile at the woman across the table from him. “So,” he offered in return, no more capable of picking a topic of conversation than she. Under the circumstances, it didn’t make sense to ask her what she’d been up to recently, but he also wasn’t eager to relive old memories.

Oblivious to his internal turmoil, she traced a pattern on the red and white checked tablecloth and continued, “It’s still so weird, seeing you all grown up like this. Though I guess it’s weirder _being_ grown up.”

“Yeah,” he offered feebly, momentarily distracted when the waitress returned with their drinks to take their order. As she moved away, he didn’t reach for his drink, watching instead as Zoey picked up her glass and gave it a dubious sniff.

With a slight shrug, she took a big sip, and he stifled a laugh at the expression of horror and revulsion that transformed her face. “Oh, my god!” she hissed, pushing the glass away from her like it might bite. “That’s _disgusting_! People actually drink that? Why does it taste like turpentine?”

He tried not to laugh. He really did. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Okay, but why would anyone ever want to _acquire_ it?” she shot back, giving her glass a fulsome glare.

Without a word, he gently pushed his glass of ginger ale toward her, sliding her martini back to his side of the table. It wasn’t his favorite drink, but it seemed mean-spirited to expect her to suffer through another sip. She shot him a quick glance of gratitude, taking a tiny sip from her new glass, and relaxed back into her seat when it didn’t make her gag.

She continued as though the interruption had never occurred. “I still can’t wrap my mind around what happened to me. Could it have been something at the party?”

He frowned and looked away. “I can’t imagine what that would be.”

Zoey grimaced, her nose wrinkling slightly as she mulled it over. “Did anything else weird happen that night?”

He shook his head. “Not that I remember.”

His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her, because she rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, Max. _Think!_ ”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t like to think about that night. It isn’t a good memory for me.” He could feel the weight of her curiosity, so he sucked in a deep breath and let his attention fall to the table once more. After so many years, it was ridiculous to realize that the memory still caused him pain. “Zoey, what’s the last thing you remember from the party?”

There was a brief, mortified silence, and then she explained, “I was supposed to be playing Seven…a game. But it turned out to be a prank, and when I came out, everyone was gone. I was upset and embarrassed, and I didn’t handle it very well. The last thing I remember, I was sitting on the floor of your closet, feeling sorry for myself.”

“Ah,” he said, not surprised that her memory didn’t extend through the entire evening. If it did, she wouldn’t have been surprised they were no longer close. “You did hide in the closet for a while, but when you came out, you told me you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

Her cheeks tinted red as she offered tentatively, “I was upset about that happened with Simon, but maybe I didn’t really mean it?”

_“This is all your fault!” Zoey yelled as she threw the robot Max had been programming for her at his head. He had to duck quickly out of the way to avoid being hit, and he winced at the sound of something snapping when it slammed against the wall and tumbled to the ground._

_“What?” he asked in alarm, reaching for her. “What did I do?”_

_Her eyes were coldly furious. “You’re a loser, Max. You’ve always been a loser, and I’m sick of letting you drag me down to your level.”_

_That stung enough that he staggered back a step, his hands falling to his sides. “You-you don’t mean that,” he murmured quietly._

_“Oh, yeah?” she asked. Spinning around, she reached back into the closet and grabbed the model he’d spent hours building from scratch. Then, staring directly into his eyes, she threw it on the ground and stomped on it. When he looked at the devastation she’d wreaked in mute horror, she threw him a satisfied smile and stormed up the stairs._

_From that day on, whenever they ran into each other at school, she’d looked through him like he didn’t even exist._

“No, I’m pretty sure you meant it,” he countered, taking a sip of his martini.

“Oh. And that was it? That was the last time we saw each other?”

He had debated with himself whether or not to tell her the rest, but it was her life that they were talking about. Even if she didn’t remember it. He suspected she wasn’t going to like hearing what he had to say, but he didn’t have the right to keep it from her. Still, he shot her an apologetic smile to soften the blow as he said, “Well, yeah, until you got me fired from SPRQ Point.”

Zoey’s gasp was loud enough that a man sitting at a table nearby glanced over. “I got you _fired?_ Wait, we worked together?”

“Not directly,” he admitted. “We worked on different floors, but we were both up for the same promotion. The funny thing is, I didn't really want the job. I was happy where I was. But you didn't know that, of course, and you decided to eliminate the competition.” He would have left it there, but the look of determination on her face made it clear she wasn’t about to let the subject drop. “I was working on a project at the time that was...well, it isn't important. What is important is it might have put me over the edge on the promotion, if I could get it launched on schedule. So you…you acted like you wanted to renew our friendship, and when my guard was down, you stole the code I was working on and slipped a virus onto my floor’s server. While my team was dealing with the virus, you finished the code, made the pitch to the higher-ups, and got the promotion. I was shown the door.”

“But…that’s not fair! If your entire team was working on it, surely you could have proven it was your code!”

“I didn’t have to prove it. They knew. It didn’t matter, and to be fair, your team managed to solve a problem we'd been struggling with for a few days. Anyway, Ava didn't fire me because you stole my code. She fired me because I put myself in a situation where you could.” _Zoey’s voice was soft in his ear when she whispered, “What would you do if I asked you to stay?”_ He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “She said I put our childhood friendship ahead of my professionalism. To be fair, she was right.”

She blew out a long breath, and it was hard to doubt her sincerity when she said, “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he began, but she cut him off with a ferocious look.

“It does matter!”

Max couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, it matters. But it was a long time ago.”

Their food had arrived at some point during their conversation, and Zoey gave her pasta a dispirited poke with her fork as she admitted, “After all that, I can’t believe you don’t hate me.”

“I did,” he admitted. “For a few years. But my life is so different than it was back then. I have a good job. I met someone amazing; I wouldn’t have met her if I still worked at SPRQ Point. She just got transferred to New York for her job, and I’ll be joining her there after we get married. It took me a while to realize, but I have a good life. I’m happy.”

The smile Zoey threw him was a little watery. “I’m glad. I really am. You deserve to be happy.”

He didn’t want to keep talking about the past, so he embraced the change of topic. “So what about you? What are you going to do now?”

The question didn’t seem to cheer her. “I don’t know. I started patching things up with Simon. We’re going to take things slow, but I think we’re on the right track. So I guess figure out how to do my job? The other me probably took classes to learn coding, but I just know the little bit I taught myself on that old Commodore my dad picked up at a garage sale. Other than that? I don’t know. Find a way to get my brother to stop hating me?” She paused and then put her fork down. “You know…I appreciate you agreeing to this dinner, but you don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to. I understand.”

_“Max, wait!” she blurted, and for just a moment, he thought he saw something in her eyes that made him want to stay. Hadn’t he learned better by now?_

_To push away the temptation, he focused on his anger instead. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for what you did,” he spat, and whatever he thought he’d seen in her face faded away._

_“Of course not. I never regret anything.”_

_His lips stretched in a tight parody of a smile as he nodded his head. “Well, then, that makes one of us.”_

She was releasing him, and he was tempted to take her up on it. He even glanced at the door, contemplated walking out. Zoey wasn’t his friend; he wasn’t obligated to help her and hadn’t been for some time. He even went so far as to pull some bills out of his wallet to cover the tab. But as he started to rise to his feet, he looked across the table and saw her there, looking pale and alone. If there was anything that made him believe her fantastic story about time travel or amnesia or _whatever_ had happened to her, it was that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her look so adrift, so uncertain. 

A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he should probably walk out, put her behind him. Leave her in the past where she belonged. But he remembered the Zoey he had once known, stretched out next to him on the couch with a tub of popcorn while they watched old movies and tried to dance along to MTV videos. The Zoey who had saved up her allowance for months to buy him his first chemistry set, and he'd found his love for coding by her side, on a Commodore so old, it felt like a holdover from the Cold War.

He missed that Zoey. He may have given up on ever seeing her again, but he'd never forgotten her. And if what she said was true, it was that Zoey he would be abandoning if he walked out right now. So while he knew he should probably leave, he found himself lowering back into his seat instead. Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “All right. I’ll help you.”

“What?” she asked, surprised. “But I just—"

“You just said you don’t know how to do your job. I can at least help you with the basics.” He hesitated, and then added, “You’re going through something I can’t even begin to imagine, and I can’t just leave you like this. But I have one condition.” At her questioning look, he said, “No more apologizing for the past. You can’t keep apologizing for something you don’t remember.”

“Oh, but I—” she began, before trailing off. Then, swallowing heavily, she added, “All right.” The silence that fell between them was heavy as they finished their meals. Max found himself speculating on what might be going through her mind, more as a means to avoid wondering what he’d gotten himself into than anything else. Finally, as they headed outside, she asked, “So, what now?”

“Now?” He shot her a quick grin. “I’m glad you were always a good student, because we have a lot of ground to cover if we’re going to get you caught up at work.” Once he left for New York, he suspected he’d never see her again. “The only thing we have to decide is…where do you want to do our cram sessions? Your place or mine?”


End file.
